#rebuilding from ashes

[aethersea]

normally I don't bother questioning when a high fantasy is all "ooh the prophesied one will break the world or save it" bc that's what high fantasy is for. don't worry about it, focus on the journey, we'll get to the prophecy when we get to it. but this show has got me wondering what that even means.

the innkeeper who served the Dark said that the Dragon could break the Wheel so that there would be no more suffering, no war or famine or poverty. and the Wheel, we have been told many times, is the Wheel of reincarnation and of fate. It's the metaphor for how all of history has a cyclical bent to it, and it's a real religious belief that souls return to the world many times to live many lives.

how do you break that Wheel such that there is no more suffering? you can't bring about a perfect utopia by breaking such a Wheel. the two concepts just aren't connected at all. the only way I can see is to just......end everything. to live is to suffer, right? there's no suffering if everyone is dead.

kind of a defeatist cause to pledge yourself to, really.

[teecupangel]

Dc x Ac Crossover idea

Desmond survived the solar flare and thru events become bruce Waynes sugarbaby

Feel free to ignore just thought it might be an interesting concept

To make this easier for us, we’ll have Desmond transported into the DC world after the Solar Flare. This way, we don’t have to make an excuse why the other DC superheroes couldn’t do something about the Solar Flare or how they learned about it too late.

Or… you know… we can have Desmond meet Batman because the Justice League was able to stop the Solar Flare and that leads to Batman learning about the Grand Temple and meeting Desmond.

Anyway, regardless of how it’s done, the main setup would be that Desmond would set up shop in Gotham because it’s more of his alley. The rogue gallery there is something he can manage and Gotham is under Batman’s purview so he doesn’t normally have to deal with the other DC characters… normally.

In this situation, Desmond would not know anything about Batman or DC as his world doesn’t have DC comics. So when he meets Bruce Wayne in a gala or something where he’s working as the bartender, he just thought of him as a charming rich dude.

A charming rich dude that he sucked off during his break.

But that’s about it.

Then, a few weeks later, Bruce Wayne comes into his bar and they talk…

He serves him drinks and one of his “we have no menu you eat what I want to cook for the day” meal…

They fucked in the small apartment he has above the bar…

Bruce Wayne leaves and Desmond thought that would be the end of it.

He wasn’t expecting anything from Bruce.

And he’s trying to keep a low profile as he build up his information network so he can plan how to to be an Assassin in Gotham without making a mistake that will shatter the order holding Gotham if he was to start building his Brotherhood.

Then…

Bruce Wayne visited his bar once again (always while it was closed) and…

Things spiral from there.

At first, Desmond assumed they were fuck buddies which he didn’t mind.

Then…

Bruce started giving him expensive gifts and Desmond can’t say no, not when his Bleed of Ezio has given him a taste of how nice it was to have expensive good quality things…

And then…

Bruce started taking him to places… high quality hotels… restaurants that need reservation for months just to get in…

Vacation spots that needs them having to use Bruce’s private jet…

It was only when he finally met one of Bruce’s sons, Damien Wayne, who calls him ‘father’s paramour’ that he realized…

Holy shit.

He was Bruce Wayne’s sugar baby.

.

.

On the other side of this story is Bruce who had been surprised (and enjoyed) by the blowjob and had only done a cursory check of Desmond’s identity because… well… he has a history for romancing people who would stab him in the back later on and…

… came up blank.

Desmond has an identity, sure, but it was fake.

Before that…

There was nothing.

So he went to the bar to investigate further and…

They fucked in Desmond’s place above the bar.

After that…

Bruce started to visit to keep an eye on him.

He started to feel bad because he was having sex with someone who doesn’t know he was trying to figure out their real identity (especially when Desmond seems so earnest about how he appreciates Bruce’s visits) so he started… giving him gifts as a way of apologizing without really apologizing.

Then he started taking Desmond out, starting with Gotham to check if Desmond is okay being seen with him then…

He started bringing Desmond to other places, trying to check if anyone would recognize him some way or another.

And feel bad because he is making Desmond bait for whatever past he was trying to hide.

Until Damien called Desmond ‘father’s paramour’ and Bruce realized…

He was too deep in this that he cannot tell Desmond the truth in fear of Desmond leaving him and no longer even caring what past Desmond is hiding.

… oh.

He was in love.

… well, fuck.

[acourtofquestions]

Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside. But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged. Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried. A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her. Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected. She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way. Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow. That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do. He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line. Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

[digitalresorts]

how are we feeling about the PL:Z-A trailer?? i'm lowkey in shock i was expecting it to be completely different idk not like a SEQUEL to XY?

anyway idc i’m excited to do some team building tho hehehehe here are my teams from my XY playthroughs, so excited to bring em back

[aleksanderscult]

If there were anything you could change about Aleksander's and Alina's core personalities what would you choose?

Ooh interesting question...

Let's start with Aleksander. I don't think I would change anything about him, to be honest. Maybe I'd make him have less trauma because I really feel sorry for him. But that's impossible for a man that has lived for so long. When you're immortal you are bound to get traumatized by manyyy things. But no, I don't think I would change anything. I love him and accept him as he is. In fact, I admire many of his qualities (won't elaborate on them now because this requires a different ask or its own post).

Now about Alina. Boy. I would change many things. But the one thing I would absolutely change in her character is her avoidance of responsibility and selfishness. I would make her think less of Mal and more about her country and the Grisha. Literally the whole trilogy was "Mal", "Mal?", "Mal!", "Oh my Saints, Mal!", "Where is Mal??", "Don't hurt Mal!!". Like there's people that are dying here, Alina😭😭

So yeah I would make her more responsible and take the reins about this whole Grisha persecution. In a perfect world Alina would take a leading position and change things for the better for her people (while still having her powers). Try to make right from wrong. Help Nikolai restore the balance between the First and Second Army and aid him to the Fjerdan wars. Be a good diplomat in time to make Ravka have a decent (at least) relationship with Shu Han and other countries. With a powerful Grisha as Queen and a charismatic otkazat'sya as King, Ravka could change for the better. Even without her powers her influence would be great, I think. Alina could grow herself to become a good leader only if she stopped thinking about herself and getting overwhelmed with her feelings. Like in R&R when she thought "I wish I had cut that rope and let them all drown" or something. So yeah. Thinking more rationally, be a pragmatist and work for the greater good of her country. She saw the state of Ravka, the state of Dva Stolba (the place she was born) where people were living in exhausting and terrible conditions. She felt pity for them. Did she do something about it? Nope.

When the Darkling died she should have said "Yes, what he did was horrible. But why did he do those things? What pushed him over the edge? What made him be this way? What he was fighting so ardently for?" and then try to fix these things in her own way. She should learn from the Darkling (his mistakes, his words to her, his actions, his cause), instead of running away and leaving everyone behind.

Everybody always criticizes the villains and their deeds (characters and readers alike) but nobody ever asks why and what made them this way. And nobody ever tries to solve the problem they were fighting for.

No. We only care about their defeat.

(Oh and I would have her have more badass moments like when she used the Cut to destroy the dome in the dining hall of the Little Palace in S&S or when she used her powers to stand up to the Apparat and his men in R&R. We needed a more assertive Alina, let's be honest 😌).

[felinoir]

𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙺'𝚂   𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚄𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚈   𝚆𝙰𝚂   𝙰𝙽   𝙴𝙰𝚂𝚈   𝙲𝚄𝚁𝙴   𝙵𝙾𝚁   𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙾𝙼.   It   didn’t   matter   the   time   of   day,   it   didn’t   matter   if   it   was   his   labs   or   his   residence,   the   mix   of   physical   and   digital   security   was   a   delightfully   complex   puzzle   with   relatively   low   stakes   that   Felicia   could   work   at   over   and   over   again   until   it   cracked.   The   worst   that   could   happen   would   be   dodging   a   couple   of   blasts   from   a   tin   suit,   but   those   things   were   noisy   and   anyone   with   ears   half   as   sensitive   as   hers   could   hear   them   coming   from   a   mile   away.

Ever   since   they   kinda   sorta   bonded   over   their   murderous,   crazy   exes,   it   became   a   personal   favorite   pastime   to   be   a   thorn   in   @overclocks'   side.   At   first   it   was   showing   up   to   watch   (and   then   spoil)   shows   on   all   of   the   streaming   platforms   he   subscribed   to,   then   to   eating   the   leftovers   in   his   fridge,   and   now   this   —   eating   one   of   the   many   pints   of   expensive,   artisan   ice   cream   while   sitting   on   expensive   marble   countertops.   He   couldn’t   be   too   upset,   she   brought   presents   this   time   as   a   mea   culpa   trade   in   the   form   of   a   single   usb   drive   jam packed   with   information   on   a   burgeoning   new   cell   of   one   terrorist   group   or   another   forming   in   the   city.   

Not   her   circus,   not   her   monkey,   the   names   of   all   the   groups   bent   on   destroying   civilization   all   blurred   together   after   a   while.   But   the   lights   in   the   kitchen   went   up   and   the   thief   blinked   citrine   eyes   at   the   owner   of   the   penthouse   she   had   broken   into.

“Didn’t   take   you   for   a   pineapple   upside   down   cake   ice   cream   kind   of   man,   but   I’m   not   complaining.   This   ice   cream   is   delightful.   Want   some?”

[purityvalentine]

Also I've been discouraged about posting on Twitter lately because I feel like I am unwittingly providing material for someone to weaponise as an irritant for no apparent reason lately...

Sometimes I try not to care and sometimes I just forget that it happens and the rest of the time I'm like hmm... Think I'll just... be quieter...

But then also like, please do not think I'm dead if I don't post on Twitter I fucking hate that website.

[theperplexedpoet]

a resurrection of self

a meditation on healing one more volume for the shelf drawing cards intent on dealing a resurrection of self line by line, I am rebuilding these reflections that are cast all the while, I am still fielding questions that the pen has asked attempting to see more clearly the winding path I have tread hoping that the heart will hear me to know what now lies ahead a meditation on healing one more volume for the shelf drawing cards intent on dealing a resurrection of self line by line, I am redrafting these reflections that remain praying they will be more lasting than those cast here by the pain attempting to hold more dearly to each of the words I've bled hoping that the heart sees clearly how I used each drop it shed a meditation on healing one more volume for the shelf drawing cards intent on dealing a resurrection of self line by line, I am rewriting these reflections that are cast all the while, I'm still deciding who will rise up from the ash (5/26/23)

[gentyjack]

god I’m writing a paper on the music for disco elysium that will eventually turn into a dissertation chapter and I’m so excited about it

[rolafamily]

🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿

I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.

My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.

But in an instant, it was all gone.

A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.

That was just the beginning.

The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?

We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.

No home.

No food.

No clean water.

No way out.

I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.

I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.

I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.

Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.

Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.

💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚

[mangos-draws]

Muhaha... all according to keikaku...

[ismails]

Please help me rebulid my Bakery

Vetted here by @90-ghost

I'm Ismail Almughanni an entrepreneur from devastated Gaza trying his best to rebuild his Bakery 🍞🥐🥖

On a quiet morning, the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the street, signaling the start of a new day at your small bakery, a place you took immense pride in. For years, this bakery had been a haven where people from all around would gather to enjoy the warm, delicious pastries and bread that you carefully crafted. It was a symbol of hard work, a beacon of hope, and a destination for anyone seeking a taste of comfort amidst life's challenges.

But one day, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The sounds of bombing began to shake the city, and it wasn’t long before the fires of war reached your neighborhood. There was no warning, no chance to escape or save what you could. Shells rained down on the district that housed your beloved bakery. You watched helplessly from a distance, unable to do anything.

Minutes passed like hours. When the noise finally subsided, and the thick smoke that blocked out the sun began to clear, you looked towards your cherished place. It was destroyed.

The walls that once protected you and brought you closer to your customers had collapsed, and the oven where you had kindled the flames of hope had turned to ash. Everything was shattered, broken, as if that place had never been a sanctuary of peace and comfort.

But the destruction wasn’t just physical. The pain in your heart was far greater than any material loss, a place filled with beautiful memories now reduced to rubble. The moments when you saw smiles on people’s faces as they savored your bread, the laughter that echoed through the bakery—those were now just memories, dissolving in the ashes of devastation.

As days went by, you tried to piece together the fragments, not just of the bakery but of yourself as well. You knew rebuilding wouldn’t be easy, and the wounds left by the war wouldn’t heal quickly. But you also knew that the hope you had infused into your bread would remain alive in your heart, even if the tables and chairs were destroyed, even if the bakery itself was gone.

The bakery may have been destroyed by war, but its spirit lives on in you, in everyone who tasted your bread, and in everyone who walked into that small place and found a slice of happiness.

Here the pictures show Ismail doing his job as a baker, but in the harsh war, after he had a large bakery, he started baking and helping people in an old oven made of clay. His first and last concern was to help people.🌾🥐🥖

Vetted here by @90-ghost

[kree8r0]

Would hastening societal collapse do more harm than good?

This post is a response to a question posed in its complete format: “Attempting to increase global problems to bring societal collapse sooner, would that do more harm than good?” Societal collapse is, by definition, the most harm that can be done. It may seem like the easiest way to address the rampant corruption we see today, but there is no guarantee against a new and next-generation form of…

[yuutaok]

I saw mcr this last weekend & it actually killed meeee

Idk a whole album about a man dying from cancer after my friend just passed from his lymphoma destroying his body and immune system really just 😝🔫

It was really really beautiful, I cried really hard. So much more than I thought I would. It’s weird how grief just rises up even though I thought I would be fine. Especially with the simple visuals and violin rearrangements. Ah…

[radrush]

it's weird to feel like I had a super disappointing september and am mostly burnt out and coping right now while also feeling like I'm at a better baseline with myself than I have been at any point in the past several years

[felinoir]

❝   𝚆𝙴   𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴   𝚃𝙾   𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿   𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶   𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴   𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂,   𝙶𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝙾𝚄𝚂.      ❞   Cats   are   perfectly   evolved   to   be   both   opportunistic   and   ambush   predators,   seeing   an   opening   and   making   the   most   of   it   with   both   claws   and   fangs.   Thieves   weren’t   much   different   and   Felicia   Hardy   was   doomed   to   see   everything   through   a   craven   and   self-serving   lens,   where   friends   could   become   marks   with   the   bat   of   an   eyelash   and   even   tragedy   could   be   flipped   to   her   advantageous   gain.   It’s   one   of   the   many   reasons   why   relationships   slipped   through   her   fingers   like   sand,   but   she   could   no   more   change   her   a   leopard   could   change   it’s   spots.   

So   in   the   chaos   of   whatever   was   attacking   the   city,   the   Cat   decided   to   liberate   some   diamonds.   The   League   seemed   to   have   it   well   enough   in   hand   and   with   their   inattention   .   .   .   She   got   caught   with   her   hand   in   the   proverbial   cookie   jar.   The   thief’s   neck,   wrists,   and   clawed   digits   were   heavy   with   precious   metals   and   glittering   stones   and   the   grin   she   leveled   at   @am4zon   was   utterly   shameless.   

❝   Someone   might   get   the   𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈   𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂   about   us.   ❞